Still Standing
by tothe
Summary: An innkeeper alone on a winters night, and a young reporter with all the time on his hands. A man with a story to tell and a man with the capacity to listen.
1. Absence of Noise

Silence of One Part

They say that it is the absence of noise that is silence. To this day I still do not know who this 'they' are, but I do know that it is not the absence of noise that leads to silence, more like the absence of people whose company you enjoy, your friends.

* * *

It was late. The innkeeper didn't have to resort to a clock to work that out, the sheer emptiness of his inn in the early hours of the morning spoke volumes of the time, all the regular patrons having left several hours ago. The innkeeper bustled about, his mind pondering on one thing while his hands did an other, the last few cleaning jobs that had to be done before he could sleep for the night.

One sharp knock cut through the silence, a rapping sound that carried loudly through the oak door. He stopped his wiping down of one of the tables and turned to the door, seemingly unsure of the actions his station required. The pause was over in an instant, the thoughtful expression lost in a whirl of emotion before a mask of hospitality set in.

In just a few swift bounds, his long strides carried him over to the door, apron swinging wildly as he did so, a bad fit on a frame as slender as his. The latched seemingly unlocked themselves as his hands swung through a series of well practiced procedures and the door sprang open, revealing a cool night-time breeze, and the heavy patter of rain on the porch.

In stumbled a young man, draped in a soaking raincoat, and struggling under the weight of his bag, tucked preciously under his arm. The man couldn't have been any older than twenty, yet was dressed expensively, although not the snobbish way many rich youths chose, as though he possessed a dress sense that one could only achieve with age.

The innkeeper jumped into action, assuming the role of kindly old man, despite being less than ten years older than the visitor. He fussed over the younger man, easing his wet coat of his shoulders, on to a chair and begun to restart the fire piece he so recently put out.

It took almost a full minute for the man to recover his senses, his eyes darting suspiciously around the rooms, highlighted by the fire. His sharp eyes settling upon the innkeeper, staying firm for a few seconds before relaxing, and letting out a yawn, relaxing enough to let the tiredness slip in.

"I suppose you'll be staying for the night?"The innkeeper's words were deliberate, each one measured for the desired response. The question was more out of politeness and the innkeepers curiosity regarding the man than actual necessity.

"Yes if you can accommodate me, I apologize for the late arrival," the man's words were swift and slurred, as though even the thought of speaking was draining his little remaining energy,let alone the act. "I ran across some trouble on the road here through Mt Coronet."

"You took the hard path, most prefer to take the safer walk from Veilstone."

"I am not like most people," the reply was brief, almost curt and condescending,an evolution apart from what he had appeared as just a second ago. He straightened up, almost like fidgeting, then the young man reached down to grab the bag, his coat flared up at the bottom, caught by a sudden up draught as the fire suddenly roared fully into life, out of the muted flame that had been flickering so far. Six red and white orbs shone like a lamp, the innkeeper's eyes picking out every detail of them. Then it was over, the man casually returning the coat to its original position, covering up the balls.

"With that much protection I am surprised you had any trouble on Mt Coronet, most of them are mid to low level trainers, you know," the innkeeper was probing, suddenly more uneasy as his hand drifted slowly towards his belt under the apron.

The visitor seemed annoyed, eyes narrowing and face darkening, hands probing at the Velcro on the satchel, hands slipping inside.

"Look here son, no need to overreact, I'm just an innkeeper with too much time to wonder, that all," the innkeeper hastily said , hands resting carefully behind the bar.

The young man looked up, surprise flashing across his face.

"Sorry to startle, I am just reaching to for my laptop. Its been a long day so far, and if I am where I think I am I have a longer day still."

"And where do you think you are?"

"Why the 'Dancing Ampharos' I hope, sitting across from a very interesting person," his eyes glinting in the firelight.

"Aren't you a little young to be a reporter?" The innkeeper was tense, not the sort of fear for your life tense, just the pent up stress of a long kept secret slowly building up inside of him.

The younger man laughed, "No " How did you find me?" or "Who sent you?"."

"I don't care how you found me, and as for who sent you, I need not worry about that, there is no-one left who needs to look for me."

The innkeeper of old was gone, the warm, comforting vibe that had oozed when the door was opened was rapidly evaporating, replaced with a colder, harder tone of voice, and a chill in the air despite the fire. This was not the innkeeper the townsfolk knew.

"If you know who I am then you will know what I will do to protect myself."

"Please relax ,like I said earlier I am just a reporter and nothing more." Now it was the reporters turn to get on the edge of his seat and start mentally praying that this was not going to resort to violence. "All I want is a story, that's all."

"Why?" More of a growl than a question, its meaning laced with the threat of a violent dismemberment of the reporter.

"Why not?" It was almost a shriek, a full two octaves higher than his previous tone, a shift in the order of magnitudes of the man that had come in earlier, and actually managed to the make innkeeper nervous, and now the man's role had settled in to the scared man trying to negotiate for his life.

"Don't answer me with a question, you came here looking for a scoop, which is my power to provide and I am not feeling inclined to be generous."

The reporter hands shook as he collected his thoughts as he tried to recover, a thirty second silence leading onto to the man swallowing his nerved and spitting out an answer that he hoped would result into fulfilling his desire.

"I don't a scoop, I want the full story, not the hack job the League media idiots produced for the funeral. People aren't convinced at your oh-so convenient departure ten years ago. They want to know what really happened."

The innkeeper moved to the table behind the reporters chair, bringing it aside and settling down, flicking of a piece of food that had escaped his cleaning earlier.

"And why should I tell you, let alone any one . This sanctuary far away from the place that birthed me has provided me anonymity for ten years, why can it suddenly no longer stay this way?" The innkeeper was resting his forearms on the table, resting his head lazily on one hand, playing with the folds of his apron with the other.

The reporter swung around, looking paler now his face was devoid of the light of the fire, moving his computer to the table, opening the lid to shield his body.

"At Saffron University, you are an obsession, the poke-biologists obsess over your team, and there not the only ones. It is now customary for undergraduates to use to the League hack job as a textbook example for the media done wrong, and even the stupidest of them can name a dozen discrepancies and the smarter ones are beginning to believe the conspiracy theories about you. I am not even the first reporter to go looking for you. A girl in the year above took halve a year out to go hunting, ended up in Hoenn of all places, and several in the years below are planning a group trip to find clues. I am just a tip of an iceberg the size of Kanto."

The innkeeper eyes sharpened at that last bit, and the first time in a long while, he gazed upon a man and found with the potential of being an equal. He sat up straighter, taking his head of his hands, resting both down onto the table, straightening out his back and sitting taller. The reporter squirmed silently as the innkeepers gaze bore through him like a digglet.

"Yes, lets say that I agreed, that I wanted to remind the world that I existed and then remind them what I am, why you? I see a desperate reporter, with a misspent youth trying to get round the league circuit, pretty far too judging by the balls on you, and I am not referring to the six on your hip, who is desperate enough to try and find me, but how do I know that you are not desperate to alter my story, to change for your own gain and wealth?"

"I promise?" The reporter was shaking, his hands trembling, resisting to the urge to tempt fate by turning on the laptop, almost unable to control his glee. He was so close.

"Not good enough for me. As you might find out I have been promised many things and to this day I am yet to see most of them become fulfilled. No, no what I want is simpler. Stay here. From the moment I start till the moment you publish the article you remain in this establishment. Neither can I risk you telling other people, running off half way through, or going home and re-editing it."

"Done."

The innkeeper let the surprise flash across his face, not for a moment did he actually expect the reporter to accept. He had not even specified how long this might take or consider that all he was doing was delaying for the perfect time to kill him.

"Three days." If I rush, the innkeeper thought.

"What? Lance's only took thirteen hours and he was a considered the greatest battler to have a lived!"

"Hmm" The innkeeper coughed, his intention as clear as day.

"Fine, 2nd best, only if you tell me of the battle."

That got a response that the reporter was not expecting, with the innkeeper instinctively curling up slightly, eyes closing for a brief second, as though someone had just given his brain an kick.

"How's this, three days, I tell you every dirty secret, every fact and thing, and I read what you have a written at the end and get sole editing rights." The innkeeper face tensed as he read them, as though he was selling his soul and was just about to sign the signature.

"Agreed, I will write what you say without fail or falter." The reporter was ecstatic at this point, flipping the lid open and punching the on switch. He then turned around and started pulling a bundle of papers out of his satchel, laying them out on the table in an order that seemed to defy all rhyme or logic.

The innkeeper relaxed, muscles uncoiling and loosening up, head gone back to the resting position on his right fist while his left pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket and began to scribble.

"If you can give me a few minutes to compose my thoughts."

"Oh of course." At this the point the reporter would have let the innkeeper amputee his writing hand, as long as it got him his story.

"Would you like any food or drink, as you said, it has been a long day and it is only about to get longer. Its on the house I suppose, since I am forcing you to stay here."

"Could I get some cold meats, bidoof if you have any, I have developed the taste for it traveling through Sinnoh to find you."

"Of course, bear with me."

For a few minutes the inn almost returned to normal, to any observer a man doing his work while the innkeeper went about his patronly duties, and the tension that once held grip over the two occupants had all but evaporated. The innkeeper returned after a few minutes to the fireside table with a platter of food,and sat down, waiting for the first question, but instead found himself asking one.

"So how are we going do this, I barely did any media interviews when I was training and those where on a different scope completely..." He started, trailing off at the end.

"I was planning on just letting you talk, Red."


	2. The Liklehood of Events

The Likelihood of Events

From my earliest memory I wanted to be trainer. Wait, no, scrap that. Already I have lied and I have not even got the first battle yet. Wow.

The truth is I wanted to be a doctor, a human one, not the pokemon type. I did not like pokemon back then. They were scary. My dad had to spend a week in the hospital after he had a run in with a wild pidgeot. That incident alone was enough to shape my young beliefs.

I hated my childhood. I was not abused or mistreated, underfed or left cold at night. No, I was just bored.

I was born and raised in Viridian City. I know it may sound like a cop-out but nothing interesting happened to me back then . I spent my first sixteen years under the impression that life would be nothing but a breeze. I did well enough at school to get by without teachers getting annoyed, and polite and helpful enough at home to stay on my parents good side. I suppose you could describe me as a boring child.

I suppose the one thing many people picked up about me back then was my averageness. I did good, not well or bad, just good. Socially, I was the same, I had friends but not best friends. I was expected to get some dead end office job as a league bureaucrat or insurance company sells-man.

It all changed in March. It was fast approaching my sixteenth birthday. I was not planning any special or out of the ordinary.

* * *

The alarm woke me. How I hated that thing. The sun was slowly creeping through my curtains, lighting up my now annoyed form lying on my bed.

I pulled myself up to a sitting position, legs dangling off the bed, rubbing my eyes , trying to shake the sleepiness out of me. I steadily got up, throwing on some clothes and dragging myself to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I stumbled downstairs, clutching the railing for support. I was still tired from the previous nights escapades of studying for the tests next month.

I put the kettle onto boil and begun to search through the fridge for some food. I settled on the cereal. I was halfway pouring myself a bowl of cereal when I saw four very large, very heavily armed men, and two ferocious looking mightyhena in tow.

"Oh fuck." A bit of an understatement given my predicament.

"Come out with your hands up. Leave all poke balls inside. This is the police."

Now, I am not normally a courageous person, and as a result it never was my style to defend myself, especially when that involved the police, and I had no idea what that fuck happened to be going on now.

"Ok , I am coming out." I decided to obey them. Not really that surprising really. I crossed over to the garden door, opening it slowly, not keen to give the police a reason to use to the mightyhenas on me.

I carefully lay my foot down outside and slowly lowered my weight onto it, shifting my other foot outside at the same time. I stood there aimlessly for about half a second, before having the enjoyable sensation of being knocked to the ground, hands forcibly held behind my back, the cold feeling of the cuffs biting into my wrists.

I suppose saying that I resisted, or struggled would sound better, instead I let myself my taken, still unsure of the crime I had committed.

* * *

I sat in the interview room for what felt like hours. They told me I wasn't actually under arrest, but still had me chained to the chair like a rabid houndoom. I had a cup of water and a sandwich placed in front of me when I was brought in, but I could not reach them. If they considered that a joke, I did not want to meet the man that had decided to play it.

It turned out to be three hours of waiting in that boring little grey room before I was deemed lucky enough to deserve an explanation. By that point I had already examined every inch of that little room, racking my brains hopelessly, trying to find a reason for my current situation. I suppose that the aim of the wait was to make me sweat. The wait did its job. By the time someone came to talk to me I was sweating like a stantler caught in the headlights.

* * *

"Uncuff him."

I looked up as a man started to move behind me, kneeling as he removed the cuffs. I stared at the woman who had spoken, trying too gauge something out of her. Nothing. The women, too this day is the closest I have seen to a stone wall. Plain looking, short hair, dark clothes, eyes totally emotionless, little wrinkles round the edges, age I assumed. Just the sort of person who would play the sandwich and water joke.

"My name is DCI Teller, and I am the head of the Narcotics department of Viridian Police Force."

I shat myself. I had no idea what she was talking about. I had not even been offered drugs before, let alone take them.

"I don't know what is going on. I want a lawyer." I decided to play it safe. I mean I hadn't done anything wrong had I?On TV they always ask for a lawyer, can't I do the same?

"Your duty solicitor is on the way, but he got held up so decided to start without him present. Now what do you know about the narcotic state in Viridian?"

"Nothing. I have never tried drugs. Please I do not know anything." I decided to be truthful, and get this mess sorted out as quick as I could. I took a sip of water, trying to keep calm and not freak out.

"Do you recognize these people?" She opened the file she was carrying and fished out two pictures, sliding them across the table, folding her arms in some sort of smug superiority.

I did recognize them.

I did a perfect spit take, water flying out of my mouth and spattering down her front, soaking her. I suddenly felt a hard pain to the head and I hurtled towards the floor, before being hauled up back upright man who had uncuffed me. I forgot that he was behind me this time.

"Leave him. Get me a towel." The man complied.

"I thought you would recognize them. They are your parents after all. Now we know that you are not to blame for what they did, and all we want is information."

I was now confused.

"My mum was a scientist, my dad a salesman, they never did anything wrong." I protested innocently, trying vainly to defend my beliefs about my own parents.

"Your mother was the chief scientist in an illegal rare candy manufacturing ring. Your dad actually ran it. I spent nearly five years piecing the evidence together, so please to not tell me that your little warped view of parents is the right one." Her voice was rising by the end of that little tirade, small cracks appearing in the smooth mask. Those properly were not wrinkles round her eyes but stress marks.

"Now, I doubt that that you know anything useful to us, but my higher ups disagree and thought that a little shock treatment was necessary to get you to grass on your parents. So here we have a little fork in the road. You can either confirm my suspicions that you had no idea of what going on and sign a confession implicating your parents, or I can let my arguably more violent comrade that hit you earlier back in here for round two. Trust me he would enjoy it."

"Also, this entire arrest bit concerning you would go a lot smoother if you just agreed with me, less of a black mark on your CV."

I gulped. I was never one for necessary heroics, let alone ones that were not going to get me anywhere, and I recognized a carrot when it was dangled to obviously in front of me. If my parents had got themselves into this mess, and they hoped that there son would help them out, then they should have not taught me to respect the police and the law. Their problem then.

"I will sign whatever." I sighed, slumping in my feet. Thank got Kanto does not have the death penalty, at least I can sleep knowing that I am not signing my parents death warrants. Or I can at least try to sleep.

"Lets start right away." She slid her chair back, shuffling her papers as she did so before quickly leaving the room. I settled back in my chair and waited.

The next few hours passed in a blur. I signed what they put in front of me and nodded at what ever my solicitor said. I asked to see my parents, but I was denied, apparently they being held in a more secure facility than the local police station I was in.

It was only when the seemingly endless parade of talking stopped, when the final piece of paper signed it hit me. I had just signed away my parents. They had loved me and raised me. I had no complaints. They seemed to be good people. I had just sentenced them to what would properly be life in prison to make my own life easier. I was being selfish. Somehow I realized that sleep would be harder to come by than I hoped.

I was led out of the interview room like a lost growlithe, having just tied the figurative noose round my parents neck.

"Now for the next stage, what you will do now."

I was sat in a meeting room with my lawyer and the man from earlier. He was the one doing the speaking.

" You have several options technically open to you. As you are only fifteen you are not allowed to live by yourself, however since you are so close to your sixteenth birthday, by the time we find you an orphanage to stay in, you will be too old. Similar problem with fostering right now. You are to old to be realistically found a placement. We also need to get you out the way by the time of your parents child. Having an under age minor to deal with would confuse the court and drag out what is a open and shut case far too long. So that leaves us with a third option. Training."

I perked up at that. " I don't want to be a trainer. I want to be a doctor!" I shouted furiously, finally beginning to release the anger I had managed to keep bottled up inside me all day. "Don't I get a say in own future!"

"Of course you do. As the man said, you have three options, just so the first two happen to unrealistic." My lawyer said, trying to placate me into being the calm I had managed to be over the last few hours.

"As I was saying. Your only real option is take up training. Medicine is out the question. With your mothers history it is unlikely any self respecting hospital would take you in right now. Maybe in ten or fifteen years when they would have forgotten your parents but until then you have no chance."

"So I don't have a choice do I? I either go along with your plan or nothing." I slumped defeated, into my seat for a second time that day.

"Excellent, your lawyer and I have already taken the liberty of creating you a trainers I.D,and I managed to a secure you a starter from the local school."

"That was quick. Why bother the pretense of giving me a choice when it was all done." I asked, pissed off at the deception I was just caught in.

"You needed to see that it was your only option and accept it. If we had forced it on you you would have reacted badly."

"Thanks for the consideration I guess."

My lawyer picked the reply from here, correctly assuming I would able to keep listening to the police man for much longer without losing my temper. He slid a yellow rucksack over the table towards me.

"Here is your I.D and poke ball. They are are in the rucksack with five spare poke balls and some start up money. We had a little whip round to give a starting fund."

"I'm flattered," I sarcastically replied as I dug out my I.D from the bag. I screwed my face up in disgust when I saw it. "What the hell, this is not even my name?" I asked in reference to the I.D. " It is a colour for Mew's sake, what sort of name is Red?"

"About that, given the high profile nature of your parents crimes, we decided that as you are innocent of collaboration, then you should be spared the hassle that your name will undoubtedly bring up. Your new name should keep you sheltered, you will of course have to keep your own discretion and wit about you as well. They are many trainers who are rightly angry at your parents."

The police man chimed back into the conversation, "On the topic of names, your new pokemon already has one. As far as her old trainer would say, she was called Seren, which means star in some foreign gibberish or another. I suppose your stuck with it."

"It is not I get much of a choice do I, I suppose I should be grateful for a pokemon in the first place shouldn't I?" I said darkly, "Another last minute surprises you want to spring in me before I leave, like how this is all a joke?"

"I wish I could say that it was, but sadly this is the reality your are stuck with." The man said almost gently.

"In that I guess I should leave. Any last minute tips?"

"The first gym is in Pewter. Be careful crossing the forest, and avoid your real name unless you want a horde of angry trainers hunting you down. Oh and stick your head round the door of the Pewter police station, we need to make sure that you are not killed. I'll show you out."

We walked out of the building. I suppose I should be happy. Not many people are given a chance to not only walk away from an incident like this, but I managed to and was a given a future, despite how unwanted it was.

"Good luck." They both said, offering me handshakes. How mature. I turned around and walked away,without shaking, releasing the pokemon as I did so. I was hoping for one of the traditional Kanto starters, at least with them I knew the basics they taught at school. I always kind of liked the look of a fully grown Charizard. Although judging by the name, I was also expecting maybe a staryu perhaps. I mean that would not have been that bad right?

The light from the ball darted around before finally settling down on a round ball of disappointment. Four stumpy legs, an annoyingly bright tail and ears with some sort of confused stripy colour scheme going on and a layer of soft, white fur. Great.

They gave me a mareep for a starter. I would go on to explain my disappointment, but I guess that you could guess it by now.

I sat down heavily on the bench outside, too engrossed in my own thoughts to properly register returning the first member of my team.

To say I was pissed would be an understatement. They cast me out into the world, on a path I did not choose or want, unprepared for what I will have to face.

I was furious, saddened and depressed.

So I did what any confused teenager in my position would have done.

I held my head in my hands and cried.


	3. Lost In a Cloud

Lost In a Crowd

I spent hours on that bench, too self absorbed in my own plight to notice the very odd looks I was getting from the strangers. It was not until the sun was beginning to decline in the sky that I finally shifted myself from my stupor and decide that I should I pay a last minute trip home.

Finally, I got up, stretching my arms as I did so, not realizing how cramped I had become, shouldering my bag with my one pokemon inside. It was quite a long walk home from the police station. The drive there had felt like only five to ten minutes, but the walk took almost an hour. I spent the time in the same zombie like state that I had been used to get through the events so far.

* * *

"Fuck me." I stood in a state of shock outside my house. The sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon when I got there, silhouetting the two stores, five bedroom house I had called my own for most of life. On a normal day, the house looked peaceful, calm and gentle, thanks to the well tended front garden. My parents tended it in a near ritualistic fashion. My drug dealer parents, who had left me to my own devices with out even an explanation. I violently shoved the thoughts out of my mind. This was not the time to get angry at anything, I had to keep calm and think logically.

Back to reality, I stared at the house. Gone was the garden. Instead there were dozens of bio hazard suit clad men tearing it to shreds, throwing the plants into plastic bags. There was even a venasaur ripping up the tree in the front garden .Did my parents really grow illegal drugs in my front garden? I stared at disbelief at the activity, failing to notice one of the men approach me arms spread wide, as though trying to ward me off.

"Excuse me, I am afraid that I will have to ask you to leave, this is a private investigation." The man's voice was greatly muffled by the helmet, but I could make it out, the sort of bored, complacent tone that I guessed he had used dozens of times today to ward off the nosy neighbors.

"I kind of live here. I was hoping to collect some of my stuff, I am sort of leaving town today, and I would rather not just go with the clothes on my back." I replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of voice. I was screwed if I could not get home.

"Ahh, I had a call about you. Can I see your trainer I.D please?" His tone was gentler this time round.

I slung my backpack off my back and fished around in it, blindly fumbling around for a few moments before I managed to grasp it. I opened it up and passed it to him.

"Red is a unusual name..." he started.

"I didn't pick it. I did not really have a say in the matter." I interceded angrily, wondering how many more times in my future this was going to be brought up. No doubt the name would raise a few eyebrows. So they want me to stay inconspicuous and they pick me a name which draws attention to myself.

"Of course, of course, the upper floor has been cleared, so I will have someone to escort you up there. I assume there are some family memento's you might like to take with you?"

"There aren't going to be any." I said as I begun to cross the front garden, dodging in-between the workers and their curious gazes, wondering what sort of child had been raised in this house, their unasked questions burrowing into me.

I stepped through the hallway with my eyes half closed, not wishing to take in the now painful sights littering the place. I made straight for the staircase, not pausing to swipe any family pictures, and stumbled my way up.

My room was neat. I stood in the doorway in surprise. Unlike the rest of my ransacked house, my room stood isolated, like the eye in the metaphorical storm, untouched. At least my parents had not begun to stash evidence in here too, I thought to myself.

I told myself upon entering the house I would only take the essentials and not stop for the rest. I tried, I really did, but I could not help it. My young mind did not have the willpower to blank fifteen years worth of memories, no matter the situation. It strove back the happy times, the birthdays and fun I had had, dragging up all the painful memories I had been unsuccessfully trying to avoid this entire time.

Heavily, I sat down on my bed, blinking in an attempt to contain them. I focused on the recent events, the derailing of my life, trying to anchor myself against the whirling sea of old memories. In all fairness, the recent ones were painful, but I had already broken down into tears once over them , I was not the sort of person the be weighed down by the same twice, least aside in the same day. Slowly the tide of emotion behind my eyes receded, and I dared open them, taking in the all too familiar surroundings. The plain wooden desk, with a pokeball carved into the face, the plain walls, unmarked by posters and the very bed I was now sitting down on now, the recognizable springs and mattresses. I was not really sure if I was going to miss it ,to be honest I was already missing the certainty that I had a home, as I was not really sure what was going to happen with the house. I probably should have asked instead of sitting there like an idiot and nodding.

Behind where I was sitting on the bed is a wardrobe. The reason I was here, and not already gallivanting off towards wherever the first gym was. Pewter I think. I did not particularly want to go off on new life with only the cloths on my back, cause knowing me they would get destroyed very quickly anyway. I could have spent the money the police had given me, but I had no idea what I was going to be needing, for pokemon food for Seren and other stuff I would have to pick up on the way. I threw open the doors harder then necessary, causing them to slam against the wall, unsettling a layer of dust that built up on it recently. I threw out the contents of the wardrobe onto the floor, discarding all the basic rules of cleanliness and order, and started pulling apart the pile of my clothing, trying to discern for the life of me what I actually needed. It was only when I ran out of sunlight, and found it difficult to see I stopped and considered what I was doing, glancing at the clock on the wall. One hour had just been spent on nothing. I dropped the old school uniform I had been mentally debating the value as a disguise, and therefore worth packing away, and re glanced my pile of clothes I was going to take and ones that I was not.

The pile of discarded clothes had now vanished, instead having teleported just a few feet to the left, where it now materialized as a pile of clothes I was going to take. My hand slapped my face in frustration, coming to terms with the fact I was just dilly dallying, trying to delay my departure just long enough for my parents to walk in through the front door and say that this was all just an elaborate joke. That was never going to happen, I told myself, mentally shaking myself out of this depressive state. It was going to take time, this I knew, but still part of me just wanted to get up and go, to leave this whole affair behind me, and the other wanted to stay behind.

A further half an hour passed while I was tussling with those thoughts, weighing up both sides of the argument. If I stayed I would have to attend the trial, but then I would get to see my parents one last time. On the other hand, the police had warned against a large backlash, one which may get violent if the disgruntled trainer had someone to target. Me.

If I left I would probably never see my parents again, at least until they got out of jail. I would get a new life, even though it was not the one I wanted, it was the one I needed right now.

My brain clicked into place, my hands abuzz as they grasped the more sensible items of clothing, the tracksuits and tops and coats. I threw on a pair of my dad's walking boots that were in my room for some reason, stuffing the rest into the bag in a rushed fashion.

I was done with this place. The new life that I had been offered was the one I wanted right now, a convenient escape that I could take.

The rest of the clothes I left out on the floor, scattered around the room, barely any carpet visible underneath, and made my way outside. I did not bother trying to shield myself from the memories this time, instead just getting more and more frustrated at my situation. I was halfway out on the front garden when it hit me. I had no idea what was going to happen to the house now. Were they using it as evidence , or selling it off? Was it mine? I simply did know.

A single selfish thought entered my head, and a mad,grinning smile lit up my face as I ran to the shed, using my arms like scythes to slash my way thorough the police tapes, and tore off the door. Inside, I paid little heed to the vast majority of it, grabbing a the two canisters that were there.

With these in tow, I sprinted inside, scared of being caught, if the police even guarded the house at night. Upstairs I emptied the first, smiling in malicious glee as I focused most of the contents on my room and my parents. I was not taking these memories, so no one could. The second one was focused on the kitchen, and I used the remainder to make a fuse as I walked out the house, pouring it behind me.

At the edge of the pavement, I tripped, empty canister being thrown forward, my own body flung into the road, bruised. I picked myself up, not willing to let the delay spoil my moment. I delved into my pocket, grabbing my lighter, striking the flint and then throwing to the floor.

I was hoping for an explosion, a quick, easy solution that would eradicate the house in a few seconds. Instead, the house burned slowly, taking almost a full minute for the flames to reach the windows and light up the night sky. It was captivating. In just a few minutes I had wiped this place from my mind. I had removed the only place I knew to call home, leaving me just the way of forward with no retreat.

I like to think that is why I did it, to provide a kick I needed to really get into being a trainer, but I think the truth is I was just angry. In the last day, my life had been turned upside down, and all I wanted was some control back. So I burned a house down. I never said I was not petty. After all being petty was so fun.

There was a hard object digging into my hand as I stared at the house. I looked down, my eyes widening in surprise as I saw a pokeball being clasped in my hands. A deep breath later I released my starter, she might as well see what her trainer had already done.

Seren appeared, sparing me a quick glance before darting back skittishly behind me as she caught sight of the fire.

"Don't worry about the flames, we are leaving now anyway." I said as comforting as possible, not wanting to cause my only pokemon to run away. Then I really would be screwed.

I shouldered my bag, and clicked my hands, signalling Seren to follow. Hopefully, she would grasp that. She had already been named after all, so she must be pretty well trained. To my delight she seem to follow that instruction, and she dogged at my heels as we walked away.

The road out of town was pretty easy, just a flat tarmacked path, and I allowed myself a small smile as emergency response vehicles raced past me towards my house, and not a single police car stopped me. It was kind of exhilarating.

Then I made my first mistake. I reached down , to give a confident pat to my mareep, and my body froze up, limbs locked in place,and I fell heavily down to the ground, unable to feel the pain. Oh shit, I thought to myself, mareep are electric pokemon, their wool is used to gather electrostatic energy. I was paralyzed, albeit temporarily. I retained control of my eyebrows and fixed them in the most evil glare I could mange on Seren. She had stopped, staring at my still body, until her curiosity got the better of her and she started to nudge and prod me. Judging by that, I guessed my evil stare did not work very well.

That is how I spent my first night as a trainer, curled up in a gutter in Viridian City, unable to move, with the pokemon who caused curling up in a ball to fall asleep. It took a while but I willed myself to do the same.

The breath of an unclean person woke me that, that and the sudden desire to move freely again. I felt the presence of someone looming over, quickly wondering why Seren had not woken me up, before allowing fear to run its course, rolling to the side and scrambling to my feet as quick as I could. Just as raised myself into something resembling human poise, I collapsed muscled failing.

I sputtered and cursed, before finally looking the man who had woken me.

He seemed large, both in width and height, and I took a sigh of relief as I noticed his blue police uniform.

"Woah, slow down Red-wait you are Red right? You do match the description we have, we have been looking for you all night." He said, although I was not sure if it was a trick of the night, or the sheer amount of flab on his face, but his mouth seemed not to moved that much at all. I nodded in the affirmative to his first question."That Teller bitch has had us out all night looking for you. Something about an arson and your safety."

"I know about the arson, hence why I am trying to get out of the city." My voice was shaky, vocal cords still recovering from last nights shock, hoping the white lie was not caught out. I did know about the arson and was trying to get out the city.

"Well, do you want to borrow a map, cause the gutter is not the most direct route." He accompanied that with a laugh, his chins bouncing up and down like spoinks , a sight I would happily laughed at before, had my own situation not been slightly better. "Look, I am supposed to escort you out of the city, oh wait, and do give you these," Held a red phone like device and a pair of black gloves. I took them off him, wondering what they really where.

"The red ones a pokedex, some high tech gadgetry think all trainers are issued, and the other one in electric proof gloves. All electric type trainers need them to insulate yourselves from your own Pokemon. Dunno why you don't all ready have them."

I pulled on the black gloves. They fit like a second skin, their sheer thinness allowing a full range of mobility, something I immediately tested out with the Pokedex, flipping it open booting it up. Satisfied that it worked, I shut it down and stored it away for further use in my pockets. I offered no thanks.

"At least your grateful then," the officer said with a huff and a wheeze. "Anyway, I need to escort you to the city limits so you can start your journey..."

"No thanks. Just point me in the right direction and I will be gone within the hour." I really did not want to be slowed down right now. I was still unsure over the arson, and did not want them to stick around long enough for them to realize it was me.

"Fine, you are at the southern edge of the city, and I guess you want to go north right?"

Another nod on my behalf.

"Well just follow this road that way and it will lead you straight out. It may take a while, but you are probably going to have to get used to the walking sooner or later anyway, so you might as well start now." He gestured with one hand the direction. Uphill. Great. "Bye." He offered out of courtesy.

This one I decided to return, he did help me after all. "Bye." I knelt down by the still sleeping mareep, and decided to give my gloves a try. I poked her, hard in to the side. M hand felt a weird buzzing sensation, but now mind crippling paralyzation. Quite a step up I found. With an evil glare that could match mine, and a sweep of a tail that almost knocked my over, she woke up.

"Come on, we are going." I offered by way of an explanation, throwing her some food I took from the fridge on the way out. She yawned and got up, gobbling up the food. I really needed to work out to feed a pokemon.

We set off north. It took us almost four hours to reach to the other side of the city. That is the problem with modern day city layouts, there are few points of access to the outside world, for trainers at least. As much as the politicians like to say, even the land within a few miles of the city boundaries was crawling with untamed pokemon, granted not all of them dangerous, but still untamed. As such there were only three ways out of Viridian. The south path, second in terms of dangerous pokemon, and useless anyway, as it only goes to pallet town, a small, insignificant community without a gym, just a research facility I had no need of going to right now.

The west, to Indigo League Headquarters, the location of our government, Mt Silver and Jonto. Again only politicians and 8-badge trainers make that journey. I was not ready by a long shot to make that journey.

That leaves the third, the most dangerous, north to Viridian Forest, a hell hole of both tame, relatively safe areas, and dark, dangerous areas that had never been officially areas. Most people did not know the difference between the two and wonder into both, leading to all the stories of people being found mauled by hordes of angry beedrills or something of the sort. According to the pattern of my own luck recently, I fell into that category, the one of ignorance and naivety about the forest, and was _really_ looking forward to my inevitable encounter with some angry pokemon I just knew I was going to piss off in my travels.

And so I set off.


End file.
